


A Father's Love

by Caroh



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:26:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9578387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caroh/pseuds/Caroh
Summary: The Queen and Dauphin are in danger. How far will Aramis and his brothers go to protect them?





	1. Chapter One

A Father’s Love

Chapter One

The sun beat mercilessly down on the exposed heads of the Musketeers. Aramis felt as if a thick woolen blanket was wrapped around his shoulders making every breath a trial. Being inside was worse. The stifling heat had made sleep almost impossible for the last three nights and there was no sign of the weather breaking any time soon. He lounged back against the table and took a sip of his lukewarm ale. It did nothing to quench his thirst.

“It could be worse,” Porthos said. “We could be on guard duty at the palace.”

“I hear that a number of the guards have passed out. It really is torture to have to stand still in this heat.” D’Artagnan picked listlessly at his lunch.

“I’m surprised the royal family has stayed in Paris.” Athos picked up a slice of cheese, stared at it for a moment and then put it down again.

“The King has a full council meeting scheduled for the next two days. His ministers are worried about the increasing anti-Spanish sentiment. There’s already been unrest in the streets.” Aramis could feel the sweat trickling down his back. His shirt was already soaked.

“Where did you hear that?” Athos asked.

“Marguerite told me. Apparently the King has been ranting to the Queen about her fellow countrymen and the fact that they have been stirring up trouble.”

“They’re the victims here,” Porthos said.

“Yes, well, no-one ever said the King was rational about it. I’m sure Rochefort has been whispering in his ear too.” Aramis laid down his tankard, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped it across his brow. 

“It will be interesting to see what the Council decides to do about it. If Rochefort had his way he’d probably let the Red Guard loose on the people and that would do even more damage.” Athos stood up and stretched. “It might be cooler down by the river. Anyone feel like a ride?”

“I’ll come,” d’Artagnan said. “It can’t be any worse than here.”

“You’re forgettin’ the smell from the sewers. It gets a lot worse in hot weather.” Porthos rubbed at the back of his neck and then looked distastefully at the moisture on his palms. “I’m goin’ to try and have a nap. Remember, we’re back on duty this evenin’”

“I’ll put up with the smell if it means finding a breeze,” Athos said. “Aramis?”

Aramis pulled out his Bible. “I think I’ll stay here and read for a while.”

“As you wish. We will see you later.”

As the sun moved slowly across the sky the table fell into shade. Aramis read peacefully, the familiar words working their usual magic and calming his mind. He only looked up when he heard a horse entering the garrison. Captain Treville dismounted and handed the animal off to a stable boy.

“Where are the others?” Treville asked.

“Athos and d’Artagnan went down to the river. Porthos is in his room. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Come to my office.”

Aramis followed the Captain, closing the door behind him. “Is there a problem?”

“Not exactly.” Treville sat down heavily and unbuttoned his doublet. “The Dauphin is having trouble coping with the heat so the Queen had decided to spend a week in the country. She is going to stay with the Countess of Marle.”

Any mention of his son made Aramis’ heart race faster and the thought that the baby was suffering made him want to rush to the Queen’s side. Not that it was possible for him to do so. He could, however, see Marguerite and find out from her how the Dauphin was faring. He was careful to keep his thoughts hidden away. Treville was far to astute for comfort. “That’s a two-day journey by coach. The route will take them through the Forest of Retz.” He locked eyes with the Captain and allowed his concern to show. “Surely you have advised her against this. Many lawless men call that forest their home.”

“She is adamant. Even the King couldn’t sway her. She believes that she and the Dauphin will be perfectly safe with an escort of Musketeers. You, Athos, Porthos and d’Artagnan will accompany her. Report to the Palace in the morning. There will be two coaches. One for the Queen, her son and the Lady Marguerite. The second will carry her servants. I don’t need to tell you how important it is that they all arrive at their destination safely.”

“We will protect them with our lives.”

“I would expect nothing less. Now go and round up the others. You’re excused duty tonight so that you can prepare.”

TMTMTM

“The Forest of Retz? I’ve never heard of it.”

“It is an ancient forest, d’Artagnan, which covers many square miles. The road from Paris to Marle runs right through its centre. To try and go around would add days to the journey. It has become quite infamous because of the number of travelers who have been attacked while traversing it. A company of Musketeers was sent once to try and clear it of outlaws but it was an impossible task. There are too many hiding places and the local people proved to be unhelpful.” Athos poured wine for all of them.

They were at a tavern close to the garrison. Its thick walls provided some insulation against the clammy night air. They’d finished their dinner and were on their last bottle of wine. Provisions for the journey had been packed and they had each checked and cleaned their weapons.

“It’s a foolish idea,” Aramis said irritably. It was bad enough that the Queen was potentially riding into danger. Worse, though, was the thought of his son possibly being harmed. He caught Athos gazing at him and looked away.

“She’s the Queen. She can do as she pleases.” 

“The King should have stopped her,” Aramis said stubbornly.

“Your concern does you credit,” Athos said. “However, the decision has been made. It is our job to ensure that the journey is completed without mishap.”

On the walk back to the garrison Athos caught Aramis’ arm, forcing him to stop.

“Are you going to be alright?” Athos asked.

“I can’t help thinking about Gallagher and his men chasing us. This time will be much worse. We will have the Dauphin with us. He’s only three months old, Athos.”

“It’s understandable that you should be concerned but perhaps you are seeing danger where there is none. Keep your misgivings to yourself. The others will wonder if you become too over-protective.”

“I will heed your advice, difficult though it may be.”

“Keep your distance from them, Aramis. You are already playing with fire in starting a relationship with Marguerite. If it were within my power, I would ask Treville to take you off this mission.”

“Why?” Aramis asked, shocked. “Don’t you trust me?”

“To be around the Queen and the Dauphin? No, I don’t.”

“You don’t need to worry. I will do my duty and will keep my feelings for them hidden.”

“You can’t have feelings for them. She is the Queen and the child is the next King of France.”

“I know.” Angrily, Aramis walked away.

Tbc


	2. A Father's Love Chapter 2

A Father’s Love

Chapter Two

It was ten o’clock before the Queen was ready to leave. The Musketeers had been at the palace for an hour, taking shelter from the heat in the entrance hall. It had been a torment to don their heavy leather uniforms although none of them even considered reporting for duty looking anything other than perfectly turned out. So, they sweltered in uncomfortable silence.

When the Queen walked down the main staircase Aramis couldn’t help staring. She was a vision of loveliness in a pale blue dress embroidered with yellow and dark blue thread and edged in pristine white lace. Her hair was loosely dressed on top of her head, held in place by sapphire encrusted combs and diamond tipped pins. Her gaze swept over all of them, lingering a second too long on him.

There was a sharp dig in his side before Athos whispered in his ear. “Stop that.”

He transferred his gaze to Marguerite who favoured him with a shy smile. She was carrying the Dauphin who was loosely wrapped in a light weight cream blanket. He could feel the heat of Athos’ glare as he looked longingly at his son.

“Constance.”

He turned to look at d’Artagnan whose gaze was fixated on the young woman walking down the stairs. Unmindful of protocol d’Artagnan walked forward and caught Constance’s arm.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m the Queen’s companion. Didn’t you think I would be accompanying her?” She glanced down at his hand and then up into his face. He immediately let go and stepped back.

“My apologies, Madame.”

“D’Artagnan…” She sighed and her stern expression softened. “Don’t worry. I won’t be a burden.”

“I know. It’s just that this journey is not without its dangers.”

“Then, I will be ready to help defend the Queen and the Dauphin if something happens.” She gave a brief curtsey and hurried after her royal mistress.

“Wonderful,” Athos muttered. “Now I have to watch two people moping after someone they can’t have.” He led them out to the coaches. “Aramis, Porthos, you will ride ahead. D’Artagnan and I will take up the rear. We are making for the Chateau de Noue at Villiers-Cotterets. It will be a hard day of travel but it takes us to the outskirts of the forest. That will allow us to traverse the forest tomorrow in daylight.”

The Queen, Marguerite, Constance and the baby had embarked in the first coach. Three young women entered the second. One, Aramis assumed, was the wet nurse while the other two he recognised as being maids serving Her Majesty. A hamper, no doubt containing refreshment, was loaded into the Queen’s coach. Aramis repositioned his hat so that it was shielding his eyes from the sun. He could see the sweat on d’Artagnan’s face and wondered if the young man was regretting his stubborn refusal to wear a hat. The coach doors closed and the four men mounted their horses.

The journey from the Louvre to the outskirts of Paris was slow. The narrow streets were crowded and people were reluctant to move out of the way. Aramis heard some muttering and there were a few shouted comments that were not friendly. Anti-Spanish sentiment was running high and there were many who still regarded the Queen as Spanish despite all her years on the French throne. Aramis and Porthos scowled fiercely at the dissenters who all suddenly discovered they were needed elsewhere.

Once free of the city they picked up pace. The trees lining the roadway were all wearing their finery and the fields were sprouting with wheat and corn. Aramis looked to the sky where the sun continued to beat down relentlessly. If this weather continued the crops would wither and burn before ever ripening. That would be a disaster for the country. Food shortages would only inflame the unrest, leading to protests against the authorities. Louis, who had very little patience, would likely authorize harsh measures and the situation would spiral ever downwards.

They had just entered a copse of trees when d’Artagnan joined them.

“We’re stopping. Apparently, the Dauphin is hungry.”

Aramis and Porthos turned and rode back to the carriages. Athos was helping the Queen to dismount. He then stood looking awkward when Marguerite handed the baby to him. Aramis swung down from his horse and hurried over.

“Let me take him.”

For a moment, he thought Athos was going to refuse but then the bundle was placed in his arms. He gazed down at his son. A wail emerged from the blanket and the baby’s face scrunched up in annoyance. 

“Take him to Jeanette,” the Queen said. Her expression was impossibly fond. 

He reluctantly handed the child to the wet nurse. “Go and sit over there,” he said, pointing to a large tree. “I will guard you both.”

She nodded and made her way to the far side of the tree so that she could have some privacy. He followed and stood with his back to her, scanning their surroundings. The irritated cries diminished and faded away. He could hear Jeanette talking softly to her charge, her voice soothing and filled with undeniable love. It was some consolation to him to know that his son was surrounded by people who loved him for himself, not just because of his title.

The baby was drowsing by the time he had finished feeding. Aramis again took him in his arms while Jeanette stood up and brushed the dust from her skirt. The Queen was standing outside the carriage when he got there and she held out her arms. He placed the baby in them before looking around to see if anyone was in earshot.

“With the greatest of respect, Your Majesty, do you think this journey is wise?”

“I know of your misgivings, Aramis, but I trust my Musketeers to keep us safe.”

“The Forest of Retz is dangerous. Many lawless men have made it their home. If they were to attack in strength I fear the outcome.”

“They would be no match for you and your companions I’m sure.”

“Your Majesty…”

“I have not forgotten how you and Athos kept me safe at the convent. The odds against you were great yet you prevailed.”

“We were inside formidable stone walls, not out in the open.”

“You have been given your orders, Musketeer.” Her tone softened. “I have complete faith in you.”

“Is there a problem?” Athos asked, walking up to them.

“No,” Aramis said. “I was merely asking after the Queen’s welfare.”

“Very commendable,” Athos said drily. “Your Majesty, we should get back on the road. We don’t want to arrive at the Chateau after nightfall.”

“Of course, Athos.” She raised her voice. “Marguerite, Constance. It’s time to leave.”

Once everyone was settled they took up their positions again and resumed their journey. 

“What were you and the Queen talkin’ about,” Porthos asked after a while.

“I was cautioning her about the dangers of the journey.”

“Doesn’t look like she paid any attention seein’ as we’re still on our way and not turnin’ back towards Paris.”

“She believes we can overcome any problem we might encounter.”

“Let’s hope she’s right.” Porthos glanced at him. “Have you and Athos had a fallin’ out?”

“Why would you think that?”

“He just seems even pricklier than normal, especially when he’s around you.”

“He’s probably just irritated because he won’t be able to get blind drunk while he’s in charge of the Queen’s escort.”

“There is that,” Porthos agreed. “Have you noticed d’Artagnan? He still pinin’ after Constance.”

“He loves her and I’m convinced that love is reciprocated but she won’t leave that oaf of a husband.”

“Sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way you’d like it to.”

“You have no idea, my friend. No idea at all.” 

Tbc


	3. A Father's Love Chapter 3

**A Father’s Love**

**Chapter Three**

The shade from the majestic oaks lining the drive to Chateau de Noue was a welcome respite from the glare of the afternoon sun. Aramis was relieved that they were almost at the end of this stage of their journey. For the last little while all he had heard were the frantic cries of the Dauphin emanating from the coach behind him. The air in the enclosed carriage would be hot and airless and he wasn’t surprised that the baby was unhappy. All his instincts told him to ride back and try to ease the boy’s discomfort but he was barred by rank and protocol, and by the knowledge that Athos would be furious with him if he stepped out of line.

Eventually they reached a high stone wall with double gates. Two men hurried to open the gates and then bowed as they passed through. They began to climb up a steep incline. Soon they were travelling through formal gardens alive with light and colour. The chateau was a long low building of grey stone topped by a slate roof, a squat round tower standing at either end. They passed a pond, stagnant in the unrelenting heat, with insects buzzing all around it.

The main entranceway was at the centre of the building. Over the doorway was a crest showing two unicorns rampant and the motto Spes Mea Deus. “God is my hope,” Aramis said, admiring the coat of arms with its vivid red and blue medallions topped by a coronet.

A portly man hurried down the steps followed more sedately by a woman who was overdressed for the heat. Clearly their hosts had put on their finery to greet the Queen. Baron Bouault was practically hopping from foot to foot in his excitement. He was a minor noble who rarely appeared at court, having neither the lands nor the wealth to interest the King. This visit was an unlooked for honour which would no doubt fuel the Baron’s reputation for years to come.

Aramis brought his horse to a standstill and dismounted. He turned towards the Queen’s coach and watched her emerge, followed by Marguerite and Constance. Then his view was blocked by Athos who gave him a hard stare.

“Your Majesty. Welcome to my humble home,” the Baron said, bowing deeply. His wife, having reached his side, dropped into a curtsey.

“It is very good of you to offer me your hospitality,” the Queen said. “I hope I won’t be too much of an imposition.”

“It is our pleasure to be of service. Come, you must be weary. There are refreshments on the terrace. Your people will be shown to their rooms and my footmen will unload your luggage.”

Marguerite handed the Dauphin to Jeanette who cooed to him softly. The baby hiccoughed before smiling at her. Aramis’ heart clenched painfully. He would happily give up his hope of salvation to have the child look at him like that. Not that it would ever happen. He was a soldier, not a member of the royal household. The Dauphin would never know him as anything other than a bodyguard, someone whose presence was tolerated but never welcomed.

There was a brief flurry of activity as everyone dispersed and the coaches were unloaded. Then, the four Musketeers found themselves alone. Aramis glanced briefly at Athos whose expression was just as sour as it had been on their arrival. He thought rather uncharitably that his brother looked more constipated than normal.

“We need to secure the premises,” Athos said. “Porthos, d’Artagnan, check the interior of the building. Aramis and I will patrol the perimeter.”

That was an unwelcome development. Aramis had the feeling that he was in for a lecture. The two of them walked towards the north tower. The windows were of stained glass, suggesting that this was the chapel. Aramis’ interest was piqued and he hoped he would get an opportunity to explore later.

“Do you have a death wish?” Athos said harshly.

“You are being over dramatic,” Aramis insisted. “I have done nothing to arouse suspicion.”

“You can’t keep your eyes off the Queen or the Dauphin. Don’t you think someone will notice eventually?”

“The Queen is a very beautiful woman. Who wouldn’t admire her?”

“She is the Queen,” Athos hissed. “Not some woman to be ogled. As for the child…he is our future King. We can’t afford for there to be any questions about his parentage.”

“I would never do anything to jeopardize their safety.”

“Not deliberately,” Athos conceded. “But, you don’t think rationally when they’re around.”

“I can assure you that I know my place,” Aramis said stiffly.

“I thought you did. However, your little escapade at the convent makes me doubt it very much.”

“I thought we were all going to die.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

Aramis stopped. “I have already apologized to you. How was I to know that our night together would result in a child?”

“It was a risk you took when you slept together.”

“I will never regret that night. We gave each other pleasure and a peace that I’ve seldom known.”

“What’s done is done. Now you have to live with the consequences but that doesn’t mean acting recklessly.”

“I will endeavor to do better,” Aramis said, his tone clipped and formal.

Athos sighed. “I hope so. I’d hate to see you hang.”

TMTMTM

It was close to midnight when Aramis rose from his bed, pulled on his boots and buckled his sword belt around his waist. Athos and d’Artagnan were both asleep so he moved quietly. The house was silent as he made his way to the rooms where the Queen and her retinue were quartered. Porthos, who was on duty outside the Queen’s door, dropped his hand from his sword hilt when he saw who was approaching.

“All quiet?” Aramis asked.

“Yeah. The Dauphin was crying earlier but I reckon he was just hungry. At any rate, he soon stopped.”

The baby, Aramis knew, was with his wet nurse. Constance and Marguerite were sharing a room and the Queen had the best room in the chateau to herself. “Go and get some sleep, my friend.”

Porthos yawned, nodded and walked away. Aramis looked at the closed door. He hadn’t been alone with the Queen since she had talked to him of her pregnancy and would never do anything to intrude on her solitude. It had, after all, only been one night when both had sought comfort in each other’s arms. His breath stuttered when the door opened and Anne stood there, bathed in candlelight.

“I heard you and Porthos talking,” she said, keeping her voice barely above a whisper.

“You should go back inside, Your Majesty.” He looked around to ensure that no-one was spying on them.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“That really isn’t appropriate.”

“Please, Aramis.”

How could he refuse her plea? He followed her into the bedroom and closed the door. She immediately came to him and raised her face to his. He bent his head, his lips capturing hers. She tasted of cinnamon. He closed his eyes and leaned deeper into the kiss. Then, reality slammed into him and he broke off, stepping back abruptly.

“We can’t do this, Anne.”

“I know.” Colour had risen in her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“If we are discovered we will both be put to death. I have no fear for myself but what about you and the baby?”

Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I would never do anything to endanger him.”

“Then we must agree to keep our distance from each other.”

“I wish things were different.”

“As do I.” He clasped his hands behind his back so that she wouldn’t see he was shaking with need.

“I want you to know that I have no regrets. You gave me the greatest gift in the life of my son…our son.”

His throat was clogged with emotion at hearing her admission of his paternity. “I swore to you that I would guard him with my life, and I hold to that oath. Tomorrow we enter the forest and that is perilous. Can I not persuade you to change your mind?”

“No. We will continue as planned.”

She was subtly withdrawing from him, perhaps regretting the impulse to invite him in. He acknowledged her determination with a brief inclination of his head. “I should return to my post.”

“Yes. Good night, Aramis.”

His gaze lingered on her, taking in the shining fall of her hair, the sparkle in her eyes and her alluring figure in her white night robe. “Good night, Your Majesty. Sleep well.” He returned to the hallway and, through the long hours of his watch, he comforted himself with the remembrance of her soft lips.

Tbc

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. A Father's Love Chapter 4

**A Father’s Love**

**Chapter Four**

When Athos came to relieve him from duty Aramis tried his best not to look guilty. Judging by the expression on Athos’ face it appeared he hadn’t done too well. His friend condemned his thoughts. How much greater would the condemnation be if he found out what had happened earlier that night? He couldn’t resent Athos for his concern though. Their lives would be forfeit if anyone ever discovered he had slept with the Queen.

Even though it was the early hours of the morning his thoughts were too turbulent to allow him to sleep. He headed instead to the chapel. It was a small room, simply furnished and with space for no more than a dozen worshipers. There was a lantern suspended over the altar, casting a small halo of light. He unbuckled his sword belt and laid it on one of the pews. One didn’t come before ones God wearing weapons of war. He knelt on the padded step before the communion rail. The rail was beautiful polished dark wood with ornate iron posts supporting it. He looked up at the depiction of the crucified Christ on the back wall and crossed himself. The warm air smelt of incense.

When he bowed his head to pray he found his mind consumed by the memory of the kiss he had shared with Anne. He felt like he was drowning in emotion. Athos believed it was a dangerous infatuation which would pass given time. The truth was he had found a deep and lasting love for the first time in his life. He knew now that he hadn’t truly loved Isabelle or Adele. Despite that their deaths would live on his conscience.

If he hadn’t seduced Isabelle and made her pregnant she never would have ended up in the convent. As for Adele, she had been an exhilarating conquest. He had been fond of her but it was the thrill of knowing he had taken something belonging to the Cardinal that had added spice to their relationship. Now there was Marguerite. Would she also lose her life because of her attraction to him? He almost groaned aloud. Perhaps it would have been safer to enter the priesthood.

With a herculean effort, he corralled his unruly thoughts. He prayed for the strength to resist his feelings for the Queen and the Dauphin. He also begged for safe passage through the forest. Then, knowing that he would need to be alert in the morning, he finally sought his bed.

TMTMTM

Aramis was on his way to breakfast when he saw Marguerite carrying the Dauphin. He gave her a distracted smile and would have continued walking except that she called his name. To ignore her would be unforgivably rude so he stopped, his gaze not on her but on the child.

“How is the Dauphin faring?” he asked. “This can’t be an easy journey for a baby.”

“He is coping well enough although it is very hot in the coach.”

“If all goes well today we will be at our destination by mid-afternoon.”

“I heard the Queen and Constance talking. They say there are bandits in the forest.” A note of fear had crept into her voice.

“There are,” Aramis said, not in the mood to allay her concerns. “The Queen was advised against the journey.”

“Surely she wouldn’t do anything to endanger the Dauphin.”

He held out a hand and the baby grasped one of his fingers. It was inappropriate behavior but he couldn’t help a fond smile. “We will protect him with our lives.” He glanced up and saw her watching him quizzically. “You should be about your duty,” he said abruptly, gently disentangling himself from the Dauphin’s grip.

“Aramis, will I get to see you while we are in Marle?” A faint flush tinged her cheeks.

“I hardly think that is appropriate.” The thought of being with her made him feel vaguely ill. He knew he was just using her for his own ends and it tarnished his character and his honour. He silently vowed to break off their relationship before he hurt her any further. “We will be too exposed,” he said, his tone kinder. “I wouldn’t want to do anything to damage your reputation.”

“Yes, of course. Excuse me.”

He could tell that she was disappointed. He was a practiced and considerate lover and knew he gave her pleasure. His own fulfillment was lacking but that wasn’t her fault. She certainly didn’t deserve his churlish behavior. “You mustn’t worry, Marguerite. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

A smile lit up her face. He left her after bestowing a smile of his own and a brief bow. They were to take breakfast in the kitchen. Athos and Porthos were already there and Aramis had only just taken his seat when d’Artagnan joined them. The young man was yawning, having taken the final watch of the night. Sunlight streamed in through the windows adding to the heat from the ovens.

“The Queen wants to leave in an hour,” Athos said.

Breakfast was porridge with honey. A bowl of strawberries sat in the middle of the table. D’Artagnan bit into one and a look of ecstasy crossed his face.

“That’s good,” he said. “There’s nothing better than fresh picked fruit.”

Aramis followed his example. The sweet juice slid down his throat and the taste lingered in his mouth. “The land here is fertile. It would be a good place to live.”

“You’d be bored within a week,” Porthos said, helping himself to a second portion of porridge and drizzling a healthy amount of honey over the top.

“You’re probably right but there are times I dream of a quieter life.”

“Do you ever regret becoming a soldier?” d’Artagnan asked.

“It’s what I’m good at. What about you? Do you miss your farm in Gascony?”

“Sometimes. I miss the people more than the place. Maybe one day I’ll go back and see what’s left.”

“The past is best left in the past,” Athos said gloomily. “Nothing good comes of revisiting it.”

No-one disagreed with him. They all now knew the story of Milady and how she had murdered Thomas. It was no wonder that Athos preferred to look to the future.

“Do you ever regret giving up your title?” Aramis asked.

“Not for a second.” Athos drained his cup of ale and stood up. “Finish your breakfast. I’m going to check that everything is ready for our departure.”

They ate quickly, thanked the cook and stepped outside into the heat laden air. Aramis squinted up at the sun which again blazed in its full glory in a blue cloudless sky. They went to the stables and found their horses ready for them. Aramis tossed a coin to the stable boy who rewarded him with a wide grin.

The coaches were standing outside the main entrance and Athos was talking to the coachmen. The others walked over to join him.

“If we encounter any trouble make sure you keep moving,” Athos said. “A stationary target is an easy target.”

The two men listened to him nervously. They weren’t used to facing danger and would be exposed because of their position at the reins. “Wouldn’t it be safer to surrender?” one of them asked.

“I’m not risking the Queen and the Dauphin falling into the hands of thieves,” Athos said fiercely. “You make the horses go as fast as they safely can. We’ll guard the rear.”

The two men were muttering unhappily as they took up their positions. Soon after there was a stir at the front door and the Queen emerged followed by her host. In Aramis’ eyes she looked as radiant as ever. His fingers strayed to his lips where the memory of her kiss lingered, branded onto his skin. He saw d’Artagnan watching Constance from under lowered lashes and noticed that she had sought the young man out with her eyes as soon as she emerged from the Chateau. Whatever she had said to break d’Artagnan’s heart, it was obvious that she still cared for him.

It took almost fifteen minutes for the Queen to extricate herself from the Baron’s company. His effusive words of farewell lingered in the air as everyone climbed into the coaches.

“D’Artagnan and I will take the lead today,” Athos said.

Aramis nodded and mounted his horse. He adjusted his hat to cut out the glare from the sun and took up his position. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to be. Dust caused by the passage of the coach wheels filled air that was already uncomfortable to breathe.

Their descent from the Chateau gave them a spectacular view of the Loire valley with the river sparkling in the distance. A falcon cruised overhead, riding the currents and, no doubt, looking for prey. They continued at a leisurely pace until ahead of them they saw the forest of Retz. It spread widely to each side of the road. It had once been a Royal hunting ground Aramis knew. That was when the Valois kings had ruled France. During the summer months, they would travel the countryside, spending the winter at Fontainebleau in preference to Paris. Since the ascension of the house of Bourbon this forest had been largely ignored, which explained the increase in lawless behavior. To the west was the only town of any size in the vicinity; Villers-Cotterets with its abandoned Chateau.

Aramis still vividly remembered his last visit. In response to pleas from the inhabitants of the town Treville had sent a troop of Musketeers to try and flush out the bandits. After numerous inconclusive skirmishes, they had been forced to accept defeat. They had returned home with three of their number slung across their horses backs and another half dozen with injuries of varying severity. He loosened his sword in its scabbard, exchanged a grim look with Porthos and rode forward.

Tbc

*Villers-Cotterets is on the border of the forest of Retz and was the birthplace of our inspiration, Alexandre Dumas.

 

 

 


	5. A Father's Love Chapter 5

**A Father’s Love**

**Chapter Five**

They entered the forest and the trees closed around them. The air under the canopy of branches and leaves was hot and oppressive. Despite that, it was beautiful. Beneath the majestic beech trees were streams and ponds, some with small waterfalls. The slanting sunbeams caught the droplets of water, turning them into glittering rainbow hues. Interspersed throughout the forest were strange sandstone rock formations around which clouds of insects buzzed. As they rode past one small pond Aramis saw the movement of fish then, in the undergrowth he caught a glimpse of a fox slinking by. Bird song filled the air.

Even with so many distractions he remained fully alert. The path was narrow, barely wide enough for the carriages. Their pace had slowed to a crawl as the coachmen navigated the uneven winding road. Aramis could feel his impatience growing with each passing moment. At this speed, it would take hours to traverse the forest. The coach they were following hit a rut, rocking from side to side. He winced in sympathy with the occupants who were enduring a most uncomfortable ride.

He was so attuned to his surroundings that he noticed immediately when it fell deathly quiet. He exchanged a look with Porthos who nodded to show he was equally aware of the impending danger. Athos and d’Artagnan dropped back to flank the Queen’s carriage. He drew one of his pistols.

In a silent rush a group of men emerged from the trees to block their path. They were armed with axes and long knives but didn’t appear to have any guns. Aramis spurred forward, firing as he went. His bullet caught one of the men in the chest driving him to the ground in an ungainly heap. He drew his second pistol and fired again with similar success. Further shots were heard and more of the bandits fell. Athos was yelling at the coachmen to get away as fast as they could. As the heavy coaches lurched forwards the bandits scattered.

“D’Artagnan, stay with them,” Athos shouted.

As the coaches and the young Musketeer disappeared around a bend in the road the remaining half dozen men hesitated before turning and sprinting back among the trees. Aramis stayed on his horse, automatically reloading his pistols even while he scanned his surroundings. Athos and Porthos dismounted and checked the immediate area, finding nothing.

“Do we go after them?” Porthos asked.

Athos shook his head. “We need to catch up with the Queen.”

They set off at a canter and hadn’t gone far before coming across the rear coach lying on its side. The horses danced in place, obviously distressed. D’Artagnan was helping Jeanette and the other two occupants to clamber out the door. Everyone looked shaken but without serious injury except for the coachman who was sitting at the side of the road, cradling his arm. Aramis slid from his horse and hurried over.

“Let me see.” He gently probed his way up the arm. “It’s broken.” He looked around for a couple of straight pieces of wood. “Porthos, there are bandages in my saddlebags.”

The Queen, Constance and Marguerite had all left their coach. Constance was comforting the three servants while the other two hovered around uncertainly. The Dauphin had begun to cry.

“You should get back inside, Your Majesty,” Athos said. “We don’t know if there will be a second attack.”

He had only just delivered his warning when men appeared from among the trees. Aramis sprang to his feet, drawing his sword and backing up until he stood immediately in front of the Queen and the Dauphin. Two men converged on him.

“Get in the coach,” he ordered. He was unable to spare the time to look and see if he was being obeyed because the men attacked simultaneously. He drew his main gauche and used it to parry a lunge. Then with his sword he blocked a blow from an axe which would have severed his arm if it had connected. Fighting two at once was no hardship for him. He had often trained against his brothers with just such a scenario. He moved lightly on his feet, turning and dodging until he could get in a strike. His blade slid into the belly of one of his opponents. He withdrew it quickly as the man crumpled to the ground.

There was a high-pitched scream from the interior of the coach. He plunged his sword into the shoulder of his remaining adversary. The man disengaged with a cry of pain and stumbled backwards. Without any thought for his own safety Aramis spun round and wrenched the door open. Inside, the Queen and Marguerite were pressed back in their seats while an unshaven man tried to open the door from the opposite side. He was impeded by Constance who had a firm grip on the door but with his superior strength and leverage she wasn’t going to be able to hold it for long.

Aramis barged through the coach and out the other side, flinging the man off-balance and down to the ground. He skewered the bandit where he lay without any hesitation or thoughts of regret. Turning back, he could see that the Queen was clutching the Dauphin to her chest and that the child was almost hysterical.

“You’re safe now,” he said.

“Once again you have saved my life,” she said breathlessly.

“It is my duty and my pleasure.” He bowed before returning to the fray.

Although several bodies littered the ground the number of their attackers seemed to have grown. However, it looked like the fight was almost over and one by one the bandits disengaged and fled back into the safety of the trees. When Aramis looked around he saw the Queen’s coachman lying dead and the three female servants huddled together looking pale and shaken. The exhilaration of the fight began to drain from his body. He walked wearily forward and gathered with his friends a short distance away from the coach.

“We can’t accommodate everyone in one coach,” d’Artagnan said. He had a nasty cut above his left eye which was leaking blood.

“We’re sitting targets if we continue this way. I say we abandon the coaches and get the Queen somewhere safe.” Athos handed a handkerchief to d’Artagnan. “D’Artagnan can take Constance, Jeanette can ride with Porthos…”

“The Queen and the Dauphin are with me,” Aramis said before Athos could continue. “Marguerite rides with you.”

“You’re our best shot, Aramis. I can’t have you burdened with the baby.”

The instinct to protest was very strong. All he wanted to do was protect his son and the woman he loved.

“I’ll take the Dauphin,” Constance said from behind him. “I can ride one of the coach horses. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.”

Athos nodded, looking relieved. “I’ll go and talk to them,” he said, indicating the servants. “Aramis, can you tell the Queen?”

“I’ll come with you. The girls’ names are Marie and Lizette,” Constance said. “They’re very young and scared. They’ll need careful handling.”

Aramis returned to the coach. “Your Majesty. We can’t outrun the bandits if we take the coach. We’ll proceed on horseback.” He was aware that Marguerite was watching him pleadingly and that she was on the verge of tears. He knew he should offer her some words of comfort but all he could think about was the safety of the Queen and the Dauphin. Anne was pale but resolute as befitted a member of royalty. He had no doubt that she was terrified and admired the courage she was showing in the face of danger.

“Very well. If you think that is best,” the Queen said.

“You must not be concerned. We will see you safely out of this forest.”

“I know you will.” Her smile was a fraction of its normal brilliance but, nonetheless, it warmed his heart. A moment later it faded and she reached out to touch his arm. “You have been injured!”

He looked in surprise at his right arm. In the heat of battle, he hadn’t noticed the wound. He removed his doublet and pulled apart the tear in his shirt sleeve. The cut, on his upper arm, was deep and the blood was running freely. “It is nothing to worry about,” he said. “Once it has been bandaged I will be fine.” It was a comforting lie. Without the time to clean and stitch it he could be left with a permanent problem. Now that he was aware of it, it began to throb.

“Let me see to it,” Marguerite said.

Aramis acquiesced only because it would have been awkward to deal with it alone. He gave her a roll of bandages and gritted his teeth against the pain as she wound them tightly around his arm. When she had finished, she clung to him briefly, pulling away when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to reciprocate. She returned to the Queen looking miserable.

While Porthos cut the carriage horses free Aramis splinted the coachman’s broken arm. He could see Constance fussing over d’Artagnan, wiping away the blood with the handkerchief. It brought a fond smile to his face although he noticed that d’Artagnan looked bemused by the attention.

Within a very short time they were ready. Aramis put his hands around the Queen’s waist as he helped her to mount his horse. It was a sweet torment to touch her even if only for a moment.

“We will head to Villers-Cotterets,” Athos said. “Once we reach the town we’ll be safe. Hopefully our attackers will be satisfied with the contents of the baggage and the coaches and leave us in peace.”

Aramis knew that was a slender hope. They had killed many of the bandits and the remaining members of the band would be looking for vengeance. However, he kept his thoughts to himself. He looked longingly at his son who was safely cradled in Constance’s arms before turning back to the path and urging his horse into a brisk trot.

Tbc

 

 

 

 

 


	6. A Father's Love Chapter 6

**A Father’s Love**

**Chapter Six**

He could feel the heat radiating from the Queen’s body. She sat stiffly side-saddle in front of him, being very careful not to lean against him. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions but it was what she was used to. Constance, riding ahead of them, straddled the broad back of the carriage horse. She guided the animal with one hand on the reins, while clutching the Dauphin to her chest with the other arm. Athos, with Marguerite as his passenger, was in the lead, pushing them to a punishing and dangerous pace. The path wound through the trees and it took all of Aramis’ concentration to control his mount.

Behind them were the others, with d’Artagnan, as the only unencumbered Musketeer, bringing up the rear. The road continued to run broadly north and at some point, they would have to turn to the west if they were to have any chance of reaching Villers-Cotterets. He hoped that a path would present itself as he had no wish to go crashing through the undergrowth in the hope of finding their way through the densely-packed trees.

He could hear nothing other than the rapid hoof beats on the ground and the horses’ heavy breathing. If the bandits were following them they were unlikely to get much warning of an attack. Suddenly a piercing whistle cut through the noise. He turned his head, trusting his horse to keep to the path. D’Artagnan was frantically waving at them and he knew that meant they were being followed. He looked forward again and caught Athos’ eye. Their leader was grim faced and Aramis knew him well enough to know that Athos was deeply worried.

They reached a fork in the road and Athos took the left-hand route. The trees bent lower here and Aramis was forced to duck his head. He put an arm around the Queen’s waist to steady her and noticed drops of perspiration glistening on her bare neck. At any other time he would welcome the chance to be this close to her but now all he could think about was saving her life and that of the Dauphin.

It was unnerving not knowing how many were following or how close the pursuit had come. If not for the women and baby they would have stopped by now and faced their attackers head on. However, with so many civilians under their care they couldn’t risk it. The only solace was the fact that the bandits did not seem to be armed with pistols.

The road appeared endless. It twisted and turned, forcing them to adjust their speed. At least now they were headed in a westerly direction and that gave him hope that they would reach the town. He wished he knew if they were gaining ground or, conversely, running out of time.

Athos slackened the speed slightly but only so that he could drop back to speak to Aramis. He drew alongside. Marguerite looked petrified, her eyes wide and dark and her face pale.

“We can’t keep this up for much longer,” Athos shouted. “The horses are getting tired.”

“What do you suggest?”

“The chateau. It is situated to the east of the town. It will give us shelter and make it harder for the bandits to attack us. We have an advantage in that we have pistols and your musket. We should be able to hold them off until nightfall.”

“How does that help us?”

“By giving time to get a message to the town.”

“Who are you going to send? We will need all four of us to guard the women and the Dauphin.”

“The coachman. We can smuggle him out of the chateau under covering fire. If we’re lucky our assailants will be too intent upon us to realise that we have sent someone for help.”

Aramis considered the proposition and nodded. “Now all we have to do is stay ahead of them long enough to get to the chateau.”

He could feel his horse beginning to labour beneath him and slowed fractionally. All the animals would be suffering from the heat and relentless pace, even those belonging to their pursuers. He peered ahead wondering if it was his imagination or if the trees actually were growing further apart. Seconds later, and with extreme suddenness, he found himself in the open air, the forest rapidly disappearing behind him. The glare of the sun, after the gloom of the forest, caused him to dip his head to shield his eyes.

Ahead were the ruins of a formal garden, left untouched since the last of the Valois line had disappeared from this earth. In the distance, he could see the roof of the chateau, grey slate glinting in the bright sunlight. He risked a glance backwards. Porthos, the servants and d’Artagnan were free of the forest now and there was no sign of anyone following them. He had just begun to breathe easier when a group of men emerged from amongst the trees. He almost groaned when he rapidly counted fifteen of them. They were severely outnumbered but, as Athos had said, they did have some advantages.

“Are they behind us?” the Queen asked.

“They are, but you mustn’t worry. You and your son will soon be behind thick stone walls and perfectly safe.”

“I know.” She glanced at him, a wavering smile lighting up her face.

He was humbled by her complete faith in his ability to protect her. They raced across the once manicured lawns which were now overgrown and full of weeds. Flowerbeds were overrun with a riot of colours and, what must once have been small box hedges, reached green tipped fingers towards the sky in a tangle of branches.

The chateau was tantalizingly near now. Its white stone looked neglected and he could see that many of the narrow windows were broken. They arrived at the front door and Aramis hurriedly dismounted, reaching up to help the Queen to the ground. He collected his musket and gently took the Queen’s arm.

“Pray the front door isn’t locked,” Athos said wryly.

They all ran up the steps and Athos grasped the handle. He hesitated for only a second before turning it. The door opened with a creak of the unoiled hinges and he ushered everyone inside. It was dark in the entrance hall and everyone huddled together, breathing heavily. Athos drew the bolts across at the top and bottom of the door.

“We can’t be sure that there isn’t another entrance. D’Artagnan, take the women and the Dauphin upstairs and find them a room that can be defended. Don’t leave them.”

“Give me your knife,” Constance said. She still had hold of the baby who had cried himself to sleep in the early stages of the chase.

D’Artagnan looked like he was going to protest before drawing his main gauche and handing it over. She passed the baby to Marguerite and gripped the knife tightly. Athos ushered them towards the stairs. When the coachman went to follow, he gripped the man’s sleeve.

“Not you, Monsieur. I have a job for you.”

The coachman was ashen and clearly in pain from his broken arm. “What can I do?”

“The town is no more than two miles to our west. You are going to fetch help. Porthos, find a rear entrance and see him on his way. Quickly now, before our friends arrive.”

Aramis was already looking around for the best vantage point. “I think I can do more damage from an upstairs window.”

“Go. Porthos will be back in a minute and we will hold the ground floor.”

“Stay safe, my friend.” He ran up the stairs and into one of the rooms at the front of the chateau. From there he had an unobstructed view of the approach. The bandits were almost in range. With a grim smile, he set about loading and priming his musket.

Tbc

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't conclusively pinpoint the location of the Chateau as all the sites I have found have been in French. For the purpose of the story, therefore, I have situated it a couple of miles east of the town.


	7. A Father's Love Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A guest reviewed on fanfiction.net pointed out that Aramis wouldn't have his musket with him. It is too long to be carried on horseback. The weapon he carries is an arquebus which is similar to a musket but with a shorter barrel. When I have time I will amend the last chapter.

**A Father’s Love**

**Chapter Seven**

Aramis used the stock of his weapon to shatter the glass. The windows were narrow, restricting the angle at which he could hold his gun and limiting his field of fire. The bandits were almost in range and he forced himself to wait. He couldn’t afford to waste even one bullet. When his experience told him that it was time he aimed at one of the foremost men and fired. His target flew backwards from his horse and the onrushing pace slowed. With deft fingers, he set about reloading. If he was lucky he would get in another couple of shots before the men got too close to the chateau. His second and third shots were equally successful but almost immediately after that the angle became too acute and he abandoned the arquebus.

He drew his brace of pistols and left the room in search of d’Artagnan. He found the young man down the hallway, standing outside a door that was firmly closed.

“We have three less to worry about but that still leaves a dozen.”

“We’ve faced worse odds,” d’Artagnan said.

“Yes. Unfortunately, we have the women and the Dauphin to worry about this time. Are they secure?”

“The door is locked.”

“Good. You should go and help Athos. I will stand guard here.”

There was no argument from d’Artagnan, who was happy to get the chance to fight alongside his mentor. Although Aramis was uneasy at leaving his brothers he knew that their only imperative was to protect the Queen and Dauphin. He was the last line of defence and would lay down his life before allowing any harm to come to them. He listened carefully, waiting for any indication that the bandits had breached the chateau. It came soon enough. There was the sound of metal striking metal followed by the sound of men’s voices. He readied himself, both pistols pointed straight out and ready to fire.

When the first two men rounded the corner from the staircase they were met with lethal force. Aramis only had a split second to worry about his friends before another man appeared and stalked towards him. He dropped his pistols and drew his sword. His opponent was a brawny young man armed with a long knife.

“Where are they?” the bandit asked. “The women and the baby? Reckon they’ll be worth a pretty penny judging by the fancy coaches they were riding in.”

“Leave now and I won’t have to kill you,” Aramis said.

The man laughed and shook his head. “My friends are just finishing off the soldiers downstairs and then they’ll all come up here. How’re you going to fight ten men on your own?”

That was interesting and suggested that at least two more of the bandits were dead or incapacitated. “I think you underestimate the skills of a Musketeer.” He edged forward, his sword outstretched.

“Musketeers, eh? Who are you guarding that’s so important…?” His words trailed off and his eyes widened.

Aramis knew the minute the man made the connection. “You don’t stand a chance. Walk away.”

“I was a soldier,” the man said, offended. “I know how to fight.”

“Then let’s get this over with.” Aramis moved forward rapidly, his sword tip seeking an opening.

With very little finesse his sword clashed with his opponent’s knife and slid to the side. A less skilled swordsman would have been pulled off-balance by the move, but he was already adjusting his stance to keep his weight centered. The man lashed out and Aramis retreated strategically. He made sure that he was still barring the way to the room that contained the Queen and his son. He stopped abruptly and lunged forward, scoring a line across the bandit’s arm. Attack and retreat; that was the pattern when facing an unpredictable opponent. The man howled with rage and came forward brandishing his knife. Aramis, by contrast, was just as calm as he had been at the beginning of the fight. He had long ago learnt the lesson that Athos was desperately trying to instill in d’Artagnan. At least he was calm until two more men came racing along the hallway.

“They’re in there!” his original foe called out, gesticulating wildly towards the door.

The men separated and Aramis found himself being edged away from the door while facing two of the enemy. The third began to kick at the lock. The time for subtlety was past. He kept his back to the wall and attacked. The fight was brutal and he only had room for one thought in his mind. These men had to die before their colleague managed to break down the door. There were screams from inside the room now although he knew none of them would come from Anne or Constance. He was glad that Constance was with here. He’d seen her fight and knew she was a fierce as any Musketeer.

One of the knives caught him in the side but the force of the blow was blunted by his leathers. Although he felt a burning pain it wasn’t an incapacitating blow. His sword flicked between his two opponents until he saw his opening. He quickly drew his main gauche, using it to engage one of the bandits while he slid his sword through the defences of the other man, catching him in the throat. There was a gurgling sound and the man fell away, his hands frantically scrabbling at the wound.

He didn’t have time to feel any satisfaction before he was fighting for his life again. He heard the sound of timber cracking and there was a single piercing scream. He had run out of time. Even if he immediately dispatched the man facing him he couldn’t reach the Queen and Dauphin in time. He increased the speed of his blows, driving the bandit back down the hallway. He threw away his main gauche and caught the man’s right hand in a bruising grip. It cost him a slice across the palm from the knife but he ignored it. While the man struggled to get free Aramis kneed him in the groin. The man screamed and dropped his knife. Aramis reversed his sword and brought the hilt crashing down on his enemy’s temple. He didn’t wait to see the man drop but spun and ran towards the open door.

The bandit was standing right in front of the Queen, menacing her with a knife. “Hand over the child and no-one needs to get hurt.”

The Queen, clutching the Dauphin to her breast took a couple of small steps backwards. Aramis slowed his approach. He couldn’t afford to spook the man who was within easy striking distance of the woman he loved and his son. Suddenly he saw Constance move. She buried d’Artagnan’s dagger between the man’s shoulder blades, once and then again. He staggered and fell to one knee.

Aramis was there immediately, placing his sword against the man’s neck. “Drop your knife and you might yet live to see another sunrise.”

He was obeyed immediately. He checked for concealed weapons before turning his attention to the man’s injury. It was disabling, but not fatal and he quickly instructed Constance to keep pressure on it until he had time to stitch the wound. During everything his thoughts were only with the Queen and Dauphin. As soon as he could he walked over to them and held out a finger for the Dauphin to grip.

“Once again you are our savior,” the Queen said, bestowing a glowing smile on him.

“Only by God’s grace and the strength and courage of my brothers.” He raised the crucifix to his lips, never breaking eye contact. The other occupants of the room were forgotten as he gazed at Anne’s radiant face.

“Aramis,” Constance called. “You should check on the others.”

He took a deep breath and looked away. “Yes.” He bowed to the Queen and left the room.

The man he had knocked unconscious still lay where he had fallen and was presenting no threat. His other opponent was lifeless, open eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling. Satisfied that everything on that floor was secure he walked quickly towards the stairs. He was still a hundred yards away when d’Artagnan ran up them, his face unusually pale.

“Aramis, come quickly. It’s Athos.”

Tbc

 

 

 


	8. A Father's Love Chapter 8

**A Father’s Love**

**Chapter Eight**

Aramis had the presence of mind to dispatch d’Artagnan to go and look after the Queen. Then he ran down the stairs, dreading what was awaiting him. Athos was propped up against a wall, surrounded by bodies. Porthos, hunkered down, had his hand pressed firmly against the upper part of Athos’ left leg. Even from a distance Aramis could see the blood that was staining the ground.

“What happened?”

“Three of the bastards swarmed him. He killed two but the third got in a slice to his leg with a hatchet.” Porthos looked up, his face a picture of concern. “I can’t get it to stop bleedin’”

“Let me see.”

Athos had his eyes closed and his breathing was ragged. Aramis couldn’t tell if he was still conscious. After removing his hand, Porthos sank heavily to the ground. There was a jagged tear in Athos’ breeches which Aramis carefully eased apart. The skin underneath was marred by a deep gash which looked to be about eight inches long. Blood continued to flow at an alarming rate.

There was the rustle of fabric before Constance came to kneel by Aramis’ side. “What can I do to help?”

He looked at her gratefully. “Water and a fire.”

“I’ll get d’Artagnan to help. The prisoners upstairs are secure so there’s no danger to the Queen and Dauphin.” She patted him on the shoulder before hurrying off.

“We need to find someplace to lay him down. The floor is filthy and I don’t want to risk more dirt getting into the wound.”

“Leave it to me.” Porthos stood up and strode down the hallway.

“The Queen?” Athos’ voice was low and strained.

“She and the Dauphin are well. How do you feel?” He pulled out a handkerchief and wound it around his left hand to cover the cut which had started to bleed sluggishly again. There was a fiery pain in his side and his arm injury throbbed. He pushed aside his own discomfort though in favour of tending to his brother.

“I would tell you I’m fine but I have a feeling you wouldn’t believe me.” Athos’ voice hitched in response to the pain. “How bad?”

“It is deep and long. It will require stitches once it has been cleaned.”

“Another scar to add to my collection,” Athos said with resignation.

“Scars appeal to the ladies. They like to imagine the thrill of being a soldier without actually experiencing any of the danger.” Aramis kept pressure on the wound.

“I’m sure you’re speaking from firsthand experience.” Athos’ eyelids were no more than half open. “Can you save my leg?”

It had taken courage to ask the question. “I believe so. The cut has exposed bone but you were fortunate as there is no sign the bone was damaged. I am more concerned about the blood loss. We can’t delay too long in sewing up the wound.”

“I found a table,” Porthos announced as he returned. “And, this.” He held up a bottle of brandy.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Athos said, holding out an unsteady hand. He took several deep swallows of the fiery liquid and visibly relaxed.

“Save some of that,” Aramis admonished. “It will help to flush the dirt from the wound.”

“Crying shame to waste it like that,” Athos muttered and took another mouthful.

“Help me get him on his feet,” Aramis said to Porthos.

With one on each side they got Athos off the ground. He couldn’t put any pressure on his injured leg so they slung one of his arms around each of their shoulders and gripped him around the waist.

“This way.” Porthos moved slowly towards the room containing the table.

D’Artagnan came running towards them. “Constance has a fire going in the kitchen. What do you need?”

“Water. Hot but not boiling. Cloths and towels. As many as you can find. Hurry.”

The large oak dining table was covered with a thick layer of dust and dust motes danced in the sunlight that streamed in through the windows. The room also contained a settee and two arm chairs so they sat Athos down while they waited for d’Artagnan. Aramis unbuckled and removed his sword belt before using his sash to wipe down the surface of the table. He took off his doublet and rolled up his sleeves. The air was hot and heavy and he felt sweat trickling down his back.

“What’s this?” Porthos was staring at his side where his white shirt was stained with blood.

“I didn’t escape completely unscathed,” Aramis admitted. “However, it isn’t serious and I will tend to it later.”

“Make sure you do.”

“I will rely on you to remind me. For now, though, we need to get Athos out of his breeches.”

Porthos bent down and removed Athos’ boots then they stripped him of his weapons and Porthos supported him while Aramis unbuttoned the breeches. Throughout it all Athos just looked mortified.

“Make sure none of the women see me like this,” he said tersely.

“Your modesty is quite safe,” Aramis said with a ghost of a smile.

Athos was deathly pale by the time they got him lying on the table. His chest heaved with the exertion and his eyes were once again closed.

“I need my medical kit,” Aramis said.

Porthos passed d’Artagnan as the young man came in burdened by a large basin of steaming water and a pile of white towels.

“How is he?”

“He will be well enough once I get this stitched up.”

There was a tightening of Athos’ mouth as Aramis began to dab at the wound. The cut was still filled with blood which hampered his efforts. “The blood will flush the dirt out but I think we need to help it along.” He opened the bottle of brandy. “This is going to hurt.”

Athos’ yell echoed around the room as Aramis poured in the alcohol. Blood and pus washed from the wound and dripped off the edge of the table.

“That’s better,” Aramis said. The blood flow seemed to have eased slightly but the towel he was using was still heavily stained a deep scarlet.

When Porthos returned, he accepted his medical kit, unrolled it and extracted a needle and thread.

“I think he could do with some more of that brandy,” Aramis said. “This will not be pleasant.”

D’Artagnan supported Athos’ shoulders while Porthos held the bottle to their lieutenant’s lips. All too soon the bottle was empty.

“I don’t suppose there’s any more?” Athos asked, his voice unsteady.

“Nah. That’s all I could find.”

“Here. Grip my hand,” d’Artagnan said.

It was a measure of how much pain Athos was in that he complied.

“Are you ready?” Aramis asked.

“Yes. Get on with it.”

He had only finished the first two stitches before Athos’ head lolled to the side. His entire body relaxed as he slipped deeper into unconsciousness.

“That’ll make things easier,” Aramis said. He continued slowly and carefully to pull the skin together and insert the needle, drawing each stitch closed. He was only half-way done when Athos came awake with a gasp.

Aramis stopped what he was doing and used a fresh towel to wipe away the accumulating blood. He was beginning to feel dizzy, not doubt a combination of the heat and his own injuries. He blinked to clear his vision and waited for the rushing noise in his ears to subside.

“Are you alright?” Porthos asked.

“Just a little overcome by the heat. Nothing more.”

“D’you want me to finish stitchin’ him up?”

“I’ve seen your sewing, my friend, and I wouldn’t inflict it on poor Athos.”

“Thank you,” Athos murmured. His pallor hadn’t improved and he was now sweating with glistening drops of water running down his face.

Aramis gripped the edge of the table and took some deep breaths. Once he was sure he was steady enough he resumed his task. Time crawled by as he inserted stitch after careful stitch. When he glanced down he saw that Athos was tightly gripping d’Artagnan’s hand. It can’t have been comfortable for the young man but there was no complaint.

Finally, he came to the last stitch and tied off the thread. “If you could see to the bandaging Porthos I would be deeply indebted.”

He walked a little unsteadily over to one of the armchairs and sat down heavily, tilting his head back. There were white spots dancing in his vision and a noise like the sea was filling his head. His eyelids drooped closed and he surrendered to the onrushing darkness.

Tbc

 

 

 


	9. A Father's Love Chapter 9

**A Father’s Love**

**Chapter Nine**

Aramis came awake to the sensation of a soft hand on his cheek. He leaned into it and slowly opened his eyes. When he saw who was bending over him his breath caught in his throat. “Your Majesty!” He started to rise only to be gently pushed back into the chair.

“Do not exert yourself, Aramis.”

He hurriedly looked around to see if anyone was watching. Relied flooded through him when he found only Athos who was stretched out on the settee asleep. “This isn’t wise,” he said, even though he would have given up his hope of heaven to have her touch him like that again.

She had backed away to a respectable distance, nervously smoothing the folds of her gown. “This is my doing. I should have listened to you.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I thought it would be an opportunity for you to spend some time with my…our son.”

“You must never say that again,” he admonished. Warmth had spread through his chest at the realization she had seen his need to be close to the boy.

“I’m sorry.” Tears started to trickle down her cheeks.

The urge to go and comfort her was very strong but he resisted it. There were too many other people around and any one of them could come in at any moment. There would be no explaining away the sight of him holding the Queen in his arms.

“The Dauphin is well?”

“He is unharmed although he is unsettled. Jeanette and Marguerite are caring for him.”

“You should return to him.” He wondered if she had seen the result of the slaughter, deducing that she had given her pallor. “Where are Porthos and d’Artagnan?”

“They are,” her voice hitched. “They are disposing of the bodies. There were so many,” she finished in a whisper.

“I am sorry you had to see that.”

She lifted her chin bravely. “I have seen dead men before.”

“Nevertheless, I would have protected you from it if I could.”

She bestowed a sweet smile on him which made his heart race faster. “D’Artagnan is to ride to the town for help. There are some bedchambers here which are still furnished. Marie and Lizette are readying them for our use.”

“That is good news. Athos will not be able to ride for a few days and I’m sure he would baulk at being transported in the back of a wagon.”

“Porthos says that he and d’Artagnan will take some men to retrieve the coaches. I’m sure he would be much more comfortable traveling in one of those. As will you.”

“There is no need for that. Once my wounds have been tended I will be fine.”

Her expression turned severe. “You were unconscious, Aramis. Do not seek to downplay the extent of your injuries.”

Both turned when the door opened. Constance came in carrying a bowl of water. She smiled when she saw him.

“You’re awake.” She laid the bowl down on a low table. “It’s time someone looked at your wounds. We wouldn’t want them to become infected. Take off your shirt.”

Aramis looked at the Queen, who had gone slightly pink. “You should leave, Your Majesty. I will be well taken care of by Constance.”

“Yes. I must check on the Dauphin.”

Despite her words, she hesitated, seeming as unwilling as he was to part company.

“Your Majesty,” Constance said, gently chiding.

“Look after him, Constance. His well-being is of paramount importance.”

“You can trust me.”

Aramis waited until the Queen had gone before awkwardly divesting himself of his shirt. He looked down at the wound in his side, which was sticky with blood. The fiery pain of earlier had relented somewhat but he still caught his breath if he moved in an unguarded way.

Constance knelt by his side and began to clean away the congealed blood. “You were lucky this didn’t go deeper. It should only take a couple of stitches to close it.”

He submitted to her ministrations. The pain of the stitching made his head reel again but he tenaciously clung onto consciousness. Once she had finished with the knife wound she unwound the bandage covering the cut on his arm.

“It looks a little red and inflamed,” she said, worriedly.

He twisted his head to look. “Clean it as best you can. I will keep it covered and hope that it heals without complications.” He wasn’t overly confident in his words, however. The wound had been left untreated for too long and was definitely showing signs of an infection. He frowned as he thought about the herbs he always carried with him. There was a tea he could brew which should forestall any rise in his temperature. He would have to see that Athos drank it as well. Given the depth of the leg wound an infection was a distinct possibility. It would have the added benefit of being a pain reliever, which both of them could use. The only downside was that the feverfew herb made a bitter and distinctly unpalatable drink. Then there was meadowsweet, which was also good at treating inflammation.

While he had been pondering the courses of treatment available to him Constance had moved on to examining his palm.

“This is shallow so I don’t think stitches are necessary. You will just have to make sure you don’t get any dirt in it. Try not to use your hand too much either.”

“You are my angel of mercy.”

“Get away with you.” His words had still brought a smile to her face.

“That was a very brave thing you did, Constance. Taking on that bandit.”

“He was threatening the Queen and the Dauphin. I couldn’t stand by and watch him take the baby.”

“You have done the Crown a great service today.”

“It’s likely that bandit will need medical attention but he wasn’t exactly my first priority.”

“You’re right. I should go…”

“You’ll stay right here with Athos. I’ll take Porthos with me to ensure neither he nor his friend cause any trouble.”

“Thank you.”

Once Constance had gone he considered getting up and going to the kitchen. The tea would take time to infuse and the sooner they drank it the better. But, he was very comfortable where he was and also he didn’t want Athos to wake up alone. His friend would undoubtedly try to do something stupid, like walking. He gazed out the window, surprised to see that the sun was starting its descent. More time had passed than he had realised. By this time the coachman should have reached the town so, hopefully, d’Artagnan would meet the townsfolk on his way. One of the first priorities would be food. None of them had eaten since breakfast and he was starting to feel hungry. They had been carrying some light refreshments with them but those had been abandoned along with the coaches.

He heard a groan and saw that Athos had started to toss uncomfortably. He rose from his chair, taking his time, and walked over. “Athos.”

Dazed green eyes surveyed him. “You passed out,” Athos said in an accusatory tone. “Why did you not tell us you were wounded?”

“Your injury required my attention.”

“Not at the expense of your health.” Athos grimaced as he levered himself up so that his back was resting against the arm of the settee.

“Constance has taken good care of me. There is nothing seriously wrong, as you can see.”

“Either that or you’re just very good at hiding it,” he grumbled.

Aramis laid his hand over his heart and looked hurt. “I am devastated that you would doubt my words.”

“Don’t overplay your hand,” Athos said with a roll of his eyes.

Aramis grinned and leaned forward to check Athos’ forehead with the back of his hand. “No fever. That’s good.”

“When can I get up?”

“Two or three days at the earliest. That was a nasty injury, my friend.”

Athos sighed. “I know,” he admitted. “Thank you for tending it.”

“Now it’s time for some of my special tea. Can I trust you to stay there while I brew it?”

“I’m not going anywhere, although I make no promises for the future.”

“That’s good enough for now.”

A strong sense of lethargy had overtaken his body. He knew that he would soon need to sleep but he forced his legs to carry him from the room and outside to look for his horse so that he could gather his supplies. Neither he nor Athos would be much use in the coming days and it would be for Porthos and d’Artagnan to rescue what they could from this fiasco. He could just imagine the reaction of the King when told about the events of the day. Rochefort would undoubtedly use them as fodder in his vendetta against Captain Treville and the musketeer regiment. He wondered if the Queen would continue her journey or return to Paris. Selfishly he wished for her to stick by her original plan. It would give him more time to spend with her and the child, even if only from a distance. He should, he knew, wish for a simpler life but those days were gone.

Tbc

 

 


	10. A Father's Love Chapter 10

**A Father’s Love**

**Chapter Ten**

Aramis was barely back inside the chateau before he encountered Porthos. He would have preferred to delay the confrontation, not feeling strong enough to weather the inevitable scolding. However, there was no way to avoid it.

“You assured me your injuries weren’t serious,” Porthos said, his arms crossed and his stance belligerent.

“We have all experienced worse.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Would you have preferred it if I left Athos to bleed out? The situation was dire and my injuries could wait.”

“At least tell me you’ve been tended to.” Porthos’ tone had softened.

“Constance looked after me most admirably.”

“Then what are you doin’ wanderin’ about? You should be restin’”

“I need to brew some tea. Can you direct me to the kitchen?”

“I’ll take you.” Porthos took hold of Aramis’ arm and led him down the main hallway. “When you’re better we’re goin’ to have a talk about takin’ care of yourself.”

“I have no doubt we will.”

After turning down several side corridors, they finally reached the kitchen.

“There’s a bucket of fresh water over there.” Porthos pointed to a spot near the back door.

Aramis filled a large kettle and put it on the stove to heat. Then he rummaged around in a cupboard until he found two pewter mugs. Deciding to start with the feverfew he measured out the appropriate amount and deposited it in each cup. Once the kettle was steaming Porthos lifted it off the stove and poured the water.

“It needs to steep for a while,” Aramis said, sitting wearily on a wooden stool.

“There’ll be bedrooms ready soon. Can Athos be moved?”

“With care. How are our prisoners?”

“Sullen and uncooperative. We still don’t know if there are any more out there so d’Artagnan and I’ll mount a guard.”

“Where is d’Artagnan?”

“On his way to the town. We could use more manpower just in case. We need provisions too. Can’t have the Queen starvin’, can we?”

“I’m sure she will do whatever was needful. Unlike the King.”

“I can just imagine what his reaction is goin’ to be when he hears about this.”

“It doesn’t bear thinking about.” Aramis got up with an effort. “We should get the tea to Athos before he falls asleep again.”

TMTMTM

Two days passed in relative peace. Porthos, assisted by men from the town, retrieved the two coaches. The baggage was untouched although the paintwork on the coach that had overturned was a bit battered. They carried the murdered coachman’s body to the town for burial and the Queen insisted upon attending the service. The coachman with the broken arm, having delivered his message, was now in the care of the mayor’s wife. The townsfolk couldn’t do enough to make up for their horrendous ordeal.

Aramis saw nothing of the Queen or the Dauphin. He had developed a slight fever despite his precautions and was confined to bed. Athos fared worse, although that information was withheld from Aramis. Constance and Marguerite spent the entire time looking after the two invalids.

On the third day Aramis’ fever finally broke and he lay in bed drenched in sweat. For once he was alone as Marguerite had gone to the kitchen to fetch him some broth. It had been a trial having her constant presence. She irritated him and made him feel guilty. After all, he had used her to get close to the Dauphin. She was a good woman, although annoyingly clingy, and didn’t deserve his churlish behavior. He knew she would attribute it to his injuries, a concession he didn’t deserve. He resolved to break things off with her once they returned to Paris.

When the door opened he assumed it was Marguerite but then he heard the happy gurgling of a baby. The Queen stood just inside the doorway, the Dauphin cradled in her arms.

“We have been worried about you,” she said.

Aramis, conscious of his disheveled state, thought about getting out of bed and then concluded that he would probably fall ignominiously on his face. “Your Majesty is too kind.”

She came closer but stopped a respectable distance away from the bed. “Marguerite tells me your fever has broken. Are your wounds healing?”

“I am recovering well. Do you know how Athos fares? No-one will tell me anything.”

She looked away and then resolutely met his concerned gaze. “He too is battling a fever but, I am told, it is more virulent than yours.”

His stomach lurched and he pushed the bedclothes aside. “How long?”

“What are you doing?” she asked, alarmed.

“I’m going to check on Athos.”

“You are very weak. There is nothing you can do that isn’t already being done. The physician from the town has been seeing to his care. He is in good hands.”

“I would see for myself.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat hunched forward as his head began to spin.

“Please, Aramis.”

She sounded so distressed that he looked at her in concern. “I don’t mean to upset you.” His gaze lingered on her face until she blushed and looked away.

“As your Queen I am ordering you to rest. I will send Porthos to fetch you later and you can go and see Athos for a short while. Believe me, please. He is being well cared for.”

His obedience was ingrained. It would never occur to him to refuse a direct order from her. “I would help him if I could.”

“I know.” She glided over to the side of the bed and held the Dauphin so that Aramis could see him. “My son is quite recovered from his ordeal.”

How he yearned to hold the boy but they couldn’t risk it. Marguerite would be back soon and it was always perfectly possible that Porthos or d’Artagnan would barge into the room. “He is strong.”

She lowered her lashes. “Like his father.”

“Thank you for bringing him. I feel more at ease knowing you are both well.” He lay back against the pillows. “Have you decided what you will do? You can’t stay here.”

“We should return to Paris,” she said without enthusiasm. “I had so looked forward to spending a few weeks in the country. For all our sakes.”

“The King should be informed about what happened.”

“We have already sent a messenger. I expect Louis will order our return. He is very protective of the Dauphin. He was reluctant to let us leave Court with an escort of four Musketeers. Now that there are only two he is likely to revoke his permission.”

“It would be understandable.”

She sighed. “We should go. It wouldn’t be good if Marguerite were to start to suspect something.”

Mindful of Athos’ warnings he hardened his heart against what he needed to say. “There can be nothing more between us. You must treat me no differently from any soldier of the guard. It’s the only way to keep you both safe.”

“I know. It’s just so difficult.”

“We must think of the child.” He reached out and took her hand. “I love you, Anne, but it can never be more than a dream.”

She clung to him desperately. “I never knew what love was. Louis and I were barely more than friends. How can I turn my back on it now?”

“You must be strong. If the King were to find out…”

“He would execute you and banish me and my son. It would tear the country apart.”

“Then you have your answer.” He released her, his strength waning. “We will always have the memory of that one night to sustain us.”

Her smile was heartbreakingly glorious. “Yes, that and the Dauphin.”

The baby was sleeping peacefully now, clasped in his mother’s arms.

Aramis reached up and stroked his cheek, marveling at how perfect he was. Then, he drew back. “Please leave. Marguerite could return at any moment.”

She bent down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before turning and walking quickly to the door.

Tbc

 

 

 

 


	11. A Father's Love Chapter 11

**A Father’s Love**

**Chapter Eleven**

Marguerite arrived with food mere moments after the Queen’s departure. Aramis sent up a small prayer of thanks. There could be no justification for a member of the royal family showing concern for a common soldier. She fussed over him until he lost patience and sent her away, only barely acknowledging the hurt look on her face.

Once he was alone he gathered up his diminished strength and got out of bed. His breeches were neatly folded on a chest in the corner and he pulled them on. Even that small exertion exhausted him and he had to sit for several minutes before venturing out of his room. Fortunately, Athos’ bedchamber was just next door so he didn't have to take many unsteady steps.

Constance and d'Artagnan both looked up when he entered but there was no acknowledgement from Athos who lay motionless on the bed.

“What are you doing here?” Constance asked. “You should be in bed.”

“How is he?” He crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed. A hand on Athos’ forehead confirmed his worst fears. “He's burning up.”

“I think he is cooler than he was,” d'Artagnan said. “Last night he was hallucinating. Today he's just slept.”

“What has the doctor prescribed?”

“A potion every four hours and cool cloths on his face and the back of his neck.” Constance’s face was drawn with exhaustion.

“When did you last sleep?” Aramis asked.

“Two nights ago,” d'Artagnan interjected before she could speak. “She hasn't left his side since the fever started.”

“Then you have done enough. I will care for him. You go and rest.”

“You are barely fit to be out of your own bed,” Constance said.

“I am well enough. D'Artagnan, get her out of here and I don't expect her to return until she has slept.”

Constance was too tired to fight him and allowed d’Artagnan to guide her out of the room. Aramis settled in one of the armchairs and kept vigil. At intervals, he would wet a cloth and place it on Athos’ forehead. The heat emanating from his brother soon dried it out so that it had to be replaced.  After a while Athos became unsettled although he showed no sign of waking. The atmosphere in the room was hot and airless which undoubtedly was doing the sick man no good at all. Aramis quickly began to tire but pushed aside his own discomfort. More time passed and Athos’ eyes opened. He had started to shiver.

“Cold,” he whispered, trying to pull the thin covers further up.

“That is just your body's way of trying to regulate your temperature,” Aramis said, gently capturing Athos’ hands. “I will fetch you something to drink.”

A pitcher sat on a small table near the bed. When Aramis sniffed at its contents he identified a concoction of very powerful herbs. He poured some into a goblet and carried it back to the bed. He used one arm to support Athos’ shoulders and held the goblet so that he could drink.

“It's disgusting,” Athos said weakly.

“True, but it's necessary. Once your fever breaks I will bring you some watered wine to make up for it.”

The ghost of a smile touched Athos’ lips. “I will hold you to that.”

He settled down again and soon drifted off to sleep. It was growing dark when Porthos arrived.

“D'Artagnan said you were in here. How do you feel?”

“Tired.”

“Then why aren't you in bed?”

“Athos needs me. I think his temperature has come down a little and he seems to be resting easier.”

“That's good news. When the fever first took hold the doctor wasn't sure he'd make it through the night. I'll fetch us some food and we can sit with him.”

The hours crawled by. Candlelight now illuminated the room. Aramis and Porthos took turns napping although neither derived much benefit from it. In the early hours of the morning Athos woke, his forehead beaded with sweat. Soon he and the bed were both soaked and Porthos had to find a change of bed linen. The breaking of the fever heralded that the worst was over and, once they had made Athos comfortable, Aramis sought his own bed and fell into a deep sleep.

TMTMTM

It didn't take long for word to come from Paris. As expected, the King ordered their return. He had sent a contingent of guards and two new coachmen. Porthos gathered up his prisoners and tied them on horses. The man who had been stabbed by Constance complained vociferously the whole time until Porthos lost his temper.

The defeat of the bandits seemed to have quietened things down in the forest and the sheer number of soldiers was enough to give any remaining miscreants pause. Athos was disgruntled when told that he would be riding in the carriage with the Queen but no one paid any heed to his complaints. Aramis rode which only seemed to increase Athos’ annoyance.

Before nightfall they had arrived back at the Chateau de Noue where they were again greeted by the Baron and his wife. Porthos adamantly refused to let Aramis take a turn at guard duty so he retired to bed early. He awoke before dawn and made his way to the beautiful little chapel. When he entered it he found that he wasn't the first. The Queen was kneeling in front of the altar with her head bowed. He began to back out but his sword struck the wall and the noise made her turn in alarm.

“Forgive me, Majesty.”

“Aramis! You are well?” She rose gracefully to her feet.

“Quite well. I will leave you alone.”

“No.” She held out a hand. “I was giving thanks for our safe return. Come and pray with me.”

Aramis took hold of the crucifix she had given him and raised it to his lips. Then he genuflected and joined her.

They prayed quietly for a while before she turned to him. Her face, in the dim glow of the lamp, was filled with an ethereal beauty and he caught his breath.

“I will always regret exposing everybody to so much danger. The next time you counsel me I will listen.”

“All that matters is that you and the Dauphin are safe.”

“Thanks once again to you and your friends.”

“We were just doing our duty.”

She smiled. “I believe there was more to it than that.”

“You know I would lay down my life for you and your son.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat came from the doorway and they turned, startled. Athos stood there looking disapproving. He bowed to the Queen.

“The Baron is looking for you, Your Majesty. He said to tell you that breakfast will be served on the terrace. Would you like me to accompany you?”

“No, thank you, Athos.” She rose to her feet, smiled fondly at Aramis, and left.

When Aramis started to follow her, Athos grasped his arm.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” He dislodged Athos’ hand and continued on his way.

“If anyone else had seen the way you were looking at each other there would have been trouble.” Athos limped down the hallway after him.

“Calm yourself. We know what we must do but please don’t begrudge me a few stolen moments.”

“Those ‘moments’ could get you hanged.”

Aramis stopped walking and turned to his friend. “I am well aware of that.”

“If you truly love her, you will stay as far away from her and the Dauphin as you can.”

“I will endeavour to follow your advice.”

“This isn’t a game, Aramis.”

“Believe me, I know. We should get back to Porthos and d’Artagnan.” He hated seeing Athos so worried and knowing he was the cause only made matters worse.

“They’re in the kitchen eating breakfast.”

“Then let us join them. I’m hungry.”

Breakfast was a hurried affair as the Queen wanted to get on the road as soon as possible. When they assembled in front of the chateau she walked out carrying the Dauphin. Marguerite, who still looked miserable, trailed after her. Constance, by contrast, was smiling happily as her eyes sought d’Artagnan. As the Queen drew level with them she stopped.

“Aramis, would you bring the Dauphin to the carriage.”

He hesitated only a moment before holding out his arms. She placed the baby in his secure grasp and continued on her way. Aramis looked down. Blue eyes stared back and then the child smiled. He drew in a sharp breath, unable to help the fond smile that illuminated his own face.

“Aramis.”

Athos sharp tone brought him back to the present. He followed the Queen and handed the Dauphin to her once she was safely settled in the coach. As he stepped back he reflected that their journey had allowed him to spend time with his love and his son. Once they were back in Paris such opportunities would disappear. Still, he was left with the memories and that was enough to sustain him.

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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